We Can Be Heroes
by Rowena Zahnrei
Summary: The requested followup to Drolemitaybdekcirtsawi. The Doctor returns to Yggiz Tsudrats to come to terms with losing Rose, but things soon go awry. Will he get the chance to tell Rose what she means to him, or will impending danger force his silence?
1. Introduction

Disclaimer: I do not own _Doctor Who. _Please don't sue me or steal my story!

NOTE: Hi everyone! I'm back from my school-imposed fanfic hiatus with a new story! This is a follow-up story to my previous fic _Drolemitaybdekcirtsawi_. I wrote it in response to a request from Bubblez-rocks-your-socks, who wanted the Doctor to tell Rose he loves her. Thanks for the prompt, Bubblez, and I hope you like the story!

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**We Can Be Heroes  
By Rowena Zahnrei**_Though nothing will keep us together,  
We can beat them for ever and ever  
Oh we can be Heroes  
Just for one day…  
We can be us  
Just for one day…_  
David Bowie, _"Heroes"_

**Introduction**

It all began at a small café in South London, with an impatient waitress and an empty chair.

"Ahem," this waitress was saying. "Excuse me. Excuse me, sir. Sir!"

Sarah Jane Smith glanced up from her newspaper to see the tall girl trying to catch the attention of a patron seated two tables away. She could only see him from the back–a brown-haired, slender man in a very blue suit. He was sitting alone at a small, round table meant for two; a secluded, corner spot with a good view of the busy city street beyond the fence that separated the café's outdoor seating area from the main sidewalk. The wrought-iron fence was painted white, and draped with flowering vines. Window boxes bursting with June flowers hid the speakers piping upbeat Bobby Darin tunes into the crowded forecourt. This café was Sarah Jane's favorite morning spot–a warm, cheerful hideaway where the coffee was strong and rich and the muffins were overloaded with fresh berries. It was a place that made her feel happy and relaxed–a rare thing in her hectic line of work.

That's why it was so jarring to see the man's slumped, dejected posture. Even from the back, he exuded a gloom that seemed to settle over his shadowed corner table like a cloud. Sarah Jane knew that brooding posture well. It spoke of regret. Regret and loss…two emotions with which the aging journalist was all too familiar. Without fully realizing it, she felt a peculiar feeling of kinship spark within her, an empathy which only grew deeper when the man began to speak.

"I'm sorry," he replied to the waitress, his voice sad and distant. "I was worlds away just then. What did you want?"

"I need to take this chair, sir."

"What?" The young man sounded stricken.

"The chair," the waitress spelled out, half lifting the deceptively heavy metal chair by its intricately wrought back in demonstration. "Forgive me, sir, but you don't seem to be meeting anybody, and that group at table three–"

"Just a minute," Sarah Jane called out, snatching up her purse, coffee mug, and newspaper and striding across the tiled forecourt. It was an impulsive action, but there was something about that young man that pulled at her, and Sarah Jane had long ago learned to trust her instincts as much as her intellect.

Beaming a smile at the startled pair, she plunked herself down in the contested chair and spread her stuff out on the table.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. I didn't see you there," she said, barely affording the startled man a glance before turning to the waitress. "You're free to take that chair over there," she said, pointing to her old spot. "I don't believe anyone's using it."

"Ma'am."

With an incline of her head that was just shy of sardonic, the waitress swanned off, leaving Sarah Jane alone with the dejected man in the very blue suit.

"Thank you," he said, a touch of amusement lacing his tone. Sarah Jane shrugged.

"Yes, well, I'm no stranger to eating out on your own. These kids they hire nowadays can be terribly inconsiderate when it comes to singles," she said brusquely, absently patting her pockets in search of her glasses. "When they're not ignoring you completely, they treat you like you're just taking up space–ah, here we are…" Discovering her glasses had been perched on her head all along, she quickly slipped them on and focused on the man's face for the first time. Instantly, she paled.

"Hello, Sarah Jane."

The man smiled, but his impish expression couldn't hide the sinking disappointment that flickered in his eyes when he realized she had only just recognized him.

"Doctor!" she gasped out, her choked voice trapped somewhere between tears and laughter. "But what are you… Why are you here? Where's Rose? And Mickey–where's Mickey Smith?"

The ancient Time Lord didn't answer. Instead he glanced down at his tea, his angular features pulled tight. Sarah Jane frowned, an odd, cold feeling starting to harden in her stomach. Her reporter's instincts were tingling, telling her that something had happened since they had last met, something terrible. And she had a sudden, terrible suspicion that she knew what it was.

Aware of her reputation for investigating strange phenomena, the _London Times_ had hired Sarah Jane freelance to cover the story of the Battle of Canary Wharf, which had ravaged the city's business district several months before. Giant metal Cybermen had been trying to take over Earth–a topic that was just up her alley. As part of her research, she had been supplied with a copy of the casualty lists. Rose Tyler had been included among the missing-presumed-dead. But, knowing she was with the Doctor, Sarah had just assumed…

"Oh…oh no. No, Doctor, don't tell me that–"

"They're alive, Sarah," he assured her quickly, and she breathed a sigh of deep relief. "Rose, Mickey…even Jackie–that's Rose's mother. They're all alive and well–fantastic, really."

Sarah Jane nodded. "I see," she said. "Then if they're all so fantastic, why are you here? On your own?"

The Doctor sat back in his chair, his expression impossible to read. "Well, if you must know, nosy, I was thinking."

"About what?"

"Doors, actually. I was thinking about just how many doors there are in a city like this. In the world–in all the worlds out there. And do you know what I realized?"

She shook her head.

"I realized, Sarah Jane Smith, that I am a selfish bastard."

Sarah Jane cocked an eyebrow. "Do you expect me to argue with that?"

She'd meant it as a joke–well, mostly–but the Doctor didn't smile. He didn't even look up from his tea. The reporter frowned, her concern growing by the second. The Doctor was acting so strangely. Granted, she didn't know this particular incarnation all that well, but even so, long experience had taught her how to read between the lines. Often the truth lurked in what a person didn't say. And what the Doctor wasn't saying could fill volumes.

"I've been counting," he went on. "In my head–how many doors there are in this cosmos. And then I wondered: if I knocked on those doors, how many people would let me in? Really let me in. Be happy to see me, offer me a biscuit, sit down with me to chat, let me hold the remote control when we watch telly. And do you know the number I came up with?"

Sarah Jane shifted uneasily in her seat, waiting for him to answer his own question.

"Zero. That's the final figure. Zero. Zip, nada, none, niente, zippedy-dippedy-squat. For all the people I've met, for all the times I've saved the universe, there's no one left out there who knows me, really knows me. Who would recognize me for who I am at the very first glance–no puzzled double-takes or lengthy introductions. And I'm not counting the Face of Boe. He doesn't have a door for one, and for two…well…it'll suffice to say I'm not counting him."

He shook his head, his gaze vacant. "I really am alone. Now, more than ever before. Alone."

Sarah Jane glared. She had no idea who that Face of Boe was that the Doctor had been babbling about, but she had understood the rest all too well.

"I've had enough," she snapped, slamming her coffee mug down on the table. "You have it wrong, Doctor. You're not a selfish bastard. You're a selfish, arrogant, self-absorbed bastard!"

The Doctor blinked, startled by her tone. "What?"

"Zero, indeed," she continued angrily. "What about me, eh? I have a door. Several, in fact. Did you ever consider you could call on me?"

"No," he said, his tone flat. Sarah opened her mouth, flabbergasted. He continued in the same bitter tone.

"Oh, you'd open your door for the Doctor," he said. "So would many others. Jo, Harry, the Brigadier–maybe even both Brigadiers, though having seen what she's like on duty, the prospect of dropping in on Bambera at home is, frankly, chilling. But I'm not the Doctor you knew, Sarah Jane. Any of you. I haven't been for…oh, so many, many years. And even though you've met _me_ before, you still don't know me. Not this me. Not really. Not like…"

He cut himself off, choked by his own words. Sarah Jane's frown deepened as she completed his sentence for him.

"Not like Rose, you mean," she said, failing to keep the anger, or the hurt, from her voice. The Doctor took in a sharp breath through his nose, his pained expression seeming to age his youthful face at least twenty years. Sarah Jane sighed.

"What…what is it about her, Doctor?" she asked hesitantly. "What makes her so different from…the rest of us."

The Doctor closed his eyes, no longer able to look her in the face.

"I was so young when I met you, Sarah," he said quietly. "But I thought I was so old. I thought I understood the universe; that I'd learned to appreciate the shades of gray that lurk between good and evil. But I've seen so much since then. I've done things…many things…the Doctor you knew would not have been capable of. But Rose…"

He shook his head, rubbing his weary eyes with his long fingers. "Rose saw me at my worst," he said. "I was staring into the abyss, and she…she pulled me back. Really. She literally swung out on a chain and pulled me back." His lips twitched briefly upwards in what could have been a smile, but his eyes were shiny and red. "She saved my life, Sarah Jane, in so many ways, and she didn't stop there. But now she's gone. I lost her. I told her…I wanted…" He ducked his head and averted his eyes, his voice suddenly rough. "But I failed."

"Doctor…"

"No, don't try it," he snapped. "There's no way to rationalize this. I lost her. It was my fault! I saw the signs, I had the clues, I felt the storm approaching. But…but we were having _fun_, and I allowed myself to be selfish. Just this once, I thought. The universe owes me some happiness just this once."

He shook his head with a disgusted grimace. "Have you ever heard anything so _human_?" he spat. "Your Doctor would have known better. Your Doctor _did_ know better. And he'd tell me so himself…if he were here…"

Sarah Jane bristled, but forced herself not to retort. Every version of the Doctor she'd known had had a tendency of disparaging other species when he was in a temper or a funk. In an odd way, it was nice to know some things about her alien friend hadn't changed. So, instead of reacting defensively, she fell back on professionalism and her natural bluntness, using her reporter's skills to get the conversation back on track.

"You were there, weren't you," she stated more than asked, straining to search his closed features for any sort of response. "When the Cybermen invaded Earth? I knew you must have been involved somehow, but I never thought…" She sighed, tilting her head in an attempt to catch his eye. "Doctor, what happened? You can tell me."

With great effort, the Doctor raised his head, his intense brown eyes deep with an emotion Sarah Jane had never expected to associate with the enigmatic Time Lord. Vulnerability. The Doctor was feeling vulnerable, and he was desperate enough to let her see.

"Oh, Doctor…"

"Sarah," he cut her off, his London accented voice deep with regret. "Was it really so bad? When I left you behind… Was it really as terrible as you said?"

"Well, I…"

"Please, Sarah," he grabbed her hands, startling her with the desperation in his expression. "Don't spare my feelings. I need to know the truth."

Sarah Jane sat back, a cold suspicion forming behind her eyes. "Why?" she demanded. "What have you done, Doctor? You told me Rose was fine, fantastic even. Your words."

"And she is! She is, Sarah. I spoke with her, and she's doing…fine, just fine."

"Then why ask me the question? Why not go talk to her? Unless…" She furrowed her brow as a sudden thought occurred to her, accompanied by a wave of guilt that she hadn't considered it before. "Doctor, did she leave you? Is that why you're here, like this?"

"Not by choice," the Doctor quickly asserted. "She didn't go by choice. She tried everything to stay. I tried to send her away, for her own safety, but she came back. She always came back. My brave, stubborn girl…"

"I'm sorry," was all Sarah Jane could think to say. "But I still don't understand…"

"Those Cybermen weren't from space, Sarah," he told her. "They were from Earth. A parallel Earth in a parallel dimension."

Sarah's eyes widened. "Incredible," she said. "A parallel world… So, is that what happened, then, when the Cybermen suddenly vanished? They were pulled back into their parallel dimension?"

"No," the Doctor shook his head.

"Then what–"

"I opened a window into the Void–the nothingness that separates dimensions," he explained. "Rose and I together. The Torchwood Institute had been drawing energy from it for some time, unwittingly attracting the attention of a group of Daleks that had been hiding away in there since the War. They broke through to this world, the Cybermen followed in their wake. Rose and I opened the Void in reverse and sucked them all back in. But Rose…" His voice broke slightly and he took in a steadying breath. "The Void's pull was too strong. Rose couldn't hold on. There was nothing I could do."

Sarah Jane nodded slowly, her dark eyes deep with compassion. "And now she's in that parallel dimension," she said. The Doctor nodded, swallowing hard as he worked to regain his composure.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Along with Mickey and Jackie…and her dad. Pete." He sniffed and almost smiled. "Good ol' Pete Tyler. He's dead in this world, you know. And now, so is Rose. Sealed away in an alternate reality, forever, living her life. But I…I can't ever see her again."

"And so you came here."

"To think," he smiled sadly.

Sarah Jane returned his smile in kind, and turned her eyes to her cooling coffee.

"Yes," she said at last, running her finger along the rim of her mug. "It was…difficult. After you left."

The Doctor stared, giving her his full attention. The intensity of his expression was unnerving, and Sarah tried not to look as she continued.

"It was like…like coming home after having studied abroad for months and months…the jarring adjustment back to the ordinary. You can't help but feel the disappointment. That sense of loss. That the adventure's done. That the world open to you is now so much smaller. All the old expectations and worries and insecurities and responsibilities you left behind creep back in with the familiar and mundane, and before you know it it's like you never even left. And that…that's probably the worst of all. When you realize your wings are clipped and, this time, it's for good."

"Oh, Sarah Jane…" The Doctor's eyes shone with guilt. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"No." She said firmly. "No, don't. It wasn't all that bad. Not really. I still had my contacts at work, and my friends at UNIT, and they were a help. And I had K-9, of course," she smiled. "It was good of you to send him to me. I'd started to wonder if you'd forgotten me."

"Never," the Doctor asserted fondly.

"I understand that now," she said, and chuffed a soft laugh. "I loved you, you know. I never stopped."

The Doctor stiffened at that, looking rather like he'd swallowed a fly. Sarah chuckled again.

"Come now, Doctor, don't look like that. Love may have four letters, but it's not a dirty word. It comes in all shapes and sizes, and turns up in the most unexpected places–rather like you!"

"Sarah–"

"In fact," she interrupted, brightening as she spoke, "now I consider it, I think the root of your problem may be that you love too deeply. Curiosity may have driven you from your home planet, but it's love that's kept you traveling. Love of the universe, and all the silly, half-mad, short-sighted little life forms that inhabit it. Love defines you, Doctor, and you inspire it wherever you go. You can't help it. It's there in the people you meet and influence. People like me. And like Rose. And we can't help but love you for it."

"Or resent it, more like," the Doctor frowned. "You've resented me a long time, Sarah Jane, and you weren't shy about letting me know it the last time we met."

"You caught me off guard, popping up at that school like that."

"No," he shook his head. "That had been building for a while."

"And now you're worried Rose might feel the same, is that it?" she asked. The Doctor averted his eyes.

"I have to admit," Sarah Jane smiled, "you're far more transparent in this form than you were before. Enigmatic–that's what you were. A truly free spirit."

He raised an amused eyebrow. "And now?"

"Now…I think you've settled a bit. You light up in the company of others, and you hurt when those ties are broken. Before, you sort of closed down, as if you found being part of a group was somehow constricting. From the moment you regenerated into old teeth-and-curls, you couldn't wait to be rid of UNIT, and all the ties you'd built there. The Brigadier really missed you once you'd gone, you know. He'd never admit it openly, but I knew. We all did."

"Yeah, I know," the Doctor said quietly, finishing off his tea in one long gulp. "So what's that human saying, then? Turnabout is fair play? Just as I learn to welcome stability and friendship, it's ripped away from me. Made inaccessible. Rose is gone, along with her entire family, and I'll never…never have the chance to tell her–to tell them…how much I…I…"

"They really meant a lot to you, didn't they?" Sarah said softly.

"More than they'll ever know," he swallowed again and slouched back in his chair. Sarah Jane regarded him closely.

"This is really eating you up, isn't it," she said, unable to keep the slightest hint of surprise from her voice. "That you never said good-bye?"

"I hate good-byes," the Doctor frowned.

"That's just words," Sarah Jane retorted. "They may have fit you once, but not anymore. I know you better than that."

The Doctor regarded her through narrowed eyes. "You do, don't you," he said. "Even after all this time."

"Perhaps _because_ of all this time," Sarah Jane smiled. "You're not the only one who's changed, old man. You were my family once. You were my world. But now I've grown up, and I've got a world of my own."

"Yeah," he said, the affection in his smile spilling over into his eyes. "Yeah you have. And now you're giving me advice." He grinned. "Sarah Jane Smith: psychologist from the stars."

Sarah Jane smirked. "The doctor is in," she quipped. "After all, even Time Lords need a friendly shoulder now and then."

"Yeah," the Doctor nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I suppose I do."

Sarah Jane watched him, drumming her fingers lightly over her newspaper in a hesitant manner. "You know…" she said after a while. "There could be a way."

"Hmm?" he frowned. "A way?"

"A way for you to say good-bye. To Rose."

"No," the Doctor said firmly. "I can't go back on our own timeline."

"I don't mean that," Sarah shook her head, then sighed. "I'm thinking in human terms here. It may sound foolish to your Time Lord logic, but for us, when we're missing someone we love, it can help to revisit places we went together…maybe even talk out loud, as though the person was still there."

The Doctor made a face. "What, and have the locals cart me away as a loony?"

Sarah Jane shrugged a bit sheepishly. "Well, it was just a suggestion. But I'll tell you this. I went back to Loch Ness once, when I was missing you. There was no one there to hear me, and I wasn't even sure why I'd come, but I poured out my guts that day. To the rocks, to the water, to the trees. And afterwards, I felt better. So, maybe, if you went back to a place you went with Rose…" She trailed off a bit helplessly. But the Doctor's expression was miles away.

"Yggiz Tsudrats," he said after a moment.

"Pardon?" Sarah frowned.

"Yggiz Tsudrats," the Doctor repeated. "It's a…a small leisure world in the Kastrian system (1). I went there once with Rose." He gave a wistful smile. "It was a good day."

"Right then," Sarah Jane brightened. "You could go there."

"Yes I could," the Doctor nodded, then fixed her with his dark stare. "And so could you…if you like…"

"Doctor…?"

"I mean it, Sarah Jane," he said, stumbling over the words at first, but growing rapidly more excited as he spoke. "You said yourself I'm better off with company this time round. You could come with me. Yggiz Tsudrats is a beautiful place. Everything is made of crystal–the plants, the animals, even the people. And they have this brilliant marketplace I know you'd love. And the sea–the sea is a rich, dark purple. It has this almost jell-like quality, and at night the diatoms–"

"No."

The Doctor blinked and his eager expression melted away. "Sorry?"

"I said no."

"Oh, but Sarah, think a moment. You can't just–"

But Sarah was shaking her head. "I'm old now, Doctor," she reminded him, her eyes sad but her expression wry. "Ever so much more than twenty (2). Besides I have a life here–a life you forced me to build with responsibilities I can't ignore. But–" she said quickly, cutting off his protest, "but I'll always be here…if you need a friend." She smiled. "For all eternity, however long you live, however many faces you wear, I'll be right here. Tea and biscuits at the ready."

He nodded, swallowing his rising emotion, and she could tell he truly understood. Slowly, she rose to collect her things, only to gasp when she found herself engulfed in an unexpected, powerful hug.

"Dear Sarah," the Doctor spoke against her hair. "My dearest Sarah Jane. I do love you, you know."

Sarah Jane sniffed against his shoulder, her shoulders shaking in a silent, bittersweet chuckle as she hugged him back. "I know," she told him. "I know."

"I'm sorry, Sarah. I'm so sorry."

"Then you're learning," she said, pulling back so she could look at his face. "Go on," she smiled, giving his cheek an affectionate peck. "Say your good-byes. We small-minded humans may never appreciate all you do, but this ungrateful universe needs its champion whole."

_To Be Continued…_

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**References:**

(1) Reference to the Tom Baker episode _The Hand of Fear_. The silicon-based, crystalline criminal Eldrad was from the planet Kastria. Since it's indicated in _The Stones of Blood_ (another Tom Baker episode) that silicon-based life forms are very rare, I figured Yggiz Tsudrats and Kastria would probably have to be relatively close by to have branched off in such a similar evolutionary vein.

(2) Reference to J.M. Barrie's _Peter Pan, _and what Wendy said to Peter when he came back for her several decades too late.


	2. Part One

Ta da! I did it! After months of serious writer's block and tons of RL stuff, I finally managed to add a chapter to this story! I'm really sorry for taking so long, I just hope you like what I came up with. Enjoy!

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_Some Years Later..._ **  
**

**Part One**

The Doctor meandered his way slowly through the bustling market street, not really looking for or at anything, just letting the planet's familiar sounds and smells wash over him. He carried a small bag of _ffaz_ in one hand, one of the few foods native to Yggiz Tsudrats that carbon-based life forms could eat. Every now and then, he'd dip into the bag and pop one of the small, sweet, transparent spheres into his mouth, savoring the crunch and the subtle, briny finish as the shards dissolved on his tongue. He remembered Rose had adored these exotic little sweets…that is, until he'd told her what they really were. The Doctor smiled softly at the memory, the images as sharp in his mind as his awareness of the active marketplace around him was blurred.

* * *

"Fish eggs!" she exclaimed, her broad, expressive face taking on a look that was at once sickened and furious. "You're tellin' me all this time I've been eatin' fish eggs?"

"Yep," the Doctor nodded, somewhat amused, but also slightly confused by the strength of her reaction. Rose was fuming.

"Three bags," she said. "_Three bags_ I've eaten, and you're only sayin' this now!"

"I thought you were enjoying them," he retorted.

"I was!"

"Then what's the matter?"

Rose opened her mouth angrily, but then she paused and thought again. "Well…they're fish eggs," she said, as if that explained everything. "I mean, I thought they were candy or somethin', but then when you said… I was jus'…" She shuddered slightly and shot her remaining _ffaz_ a distasteful look. "Ugh. So, I've been crunchin' on fish eggs all afternoon, then."

The Doctor nodded, watching her carefully.

"An' these fish, then. What are they like? Don't…don't tell me they live in that thick, slimy purple ocean…"

"No, no, the fish that laid these eggs are strictly river-dwellers," he assured her quickly. "Well, I say river dwellers—in the wild, they're river dwellers. These _ffaz_ are most likely farm raised. The briny flavor's not quite as strong. And they're quite beautiful, these fish. Rather like catfish, only smaller, with more whiskers and this glassy, multi-faceted skin that refracts the light like a prism. When they swim, they fill the water with rippling rainbows."

"Sounds kinda pretty," Rose acknowledged.

"Yeah. An' they're silicon based, of course, just like everything else on this planet," the Doctor told her. "They glow pale pink in the darkness."

Rose looked back into her bag of _ffaz_, then took a breath and popped one of the glass-like spheres into her mouth. A moment later, the Doctor heard a muffled crunch and Rose smiled. He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"What?" Rose shot back, a mock defiant look in her eyes. "They're good."

"Hm," the Doctor smirked. "I wonder if you would have been so quick to try another if I'd told you the fish were gray, bumpy, scaly things with no eyes, and covered in these feathery feelers that help them crawl through the muck and slime under the purple sea."

"They're not, though," Rose said.

"But if they were," the Doctor insisted. "Would it really matter?"

"Not a bit," Rose asserted, crunching two more eggs.

"Then what was that whole scene about just now?"

"I jus' wasn't expectin' fish eggs, that's all," she sniffed. "You caught me off guard. Next time you say to order a thing, be upfront with me about what it is. Don't think you have to keep things from me 'cause you think I'm jus' some picky, narrow-minded little ape what only eats, like, _chips_ and things."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "No, no! No, Rose, I never—"

"But you do!" she exclaimed. "You're _always_ doin' this sort of thing. Look, I don't want you to protect me from this stuff. I don't want you treatin' me like I'm some fragile thing jus' because I won't live as long as you. When we go to a planet, I want to experience it, same as you. An' if we end up in trouble, well. We'll help each other out of it, like we always do. But you have to tell me the truth about what we're facing, whether it's weird food or some, like, massive Slitheen attack fleet or somethin'. That way _I_ can make the decision to face it too. That OK?"

The Doctor looked down at her, feeling somewhat cowed and more than a little amazed that she was able to make him feel that way. "Rose, I—I'm sorry. Honest, I didn't mean—"

But Rose had just smirked and reached out to take his hand. "'S OK," she said. "You're forgiven. Jus' don't let it happen again. Ooh, I'm starvin'. What else do they have round here for a couple of non-crystal humanoids to eat?"

* * *

The Doctor sighed in reluctance as he came out of his daydream. The red suns, Divad and Eiwob, were setting and the marketplace was beginning to glow in the deepening purple twilight, including the native people, or Klofsnwot, as they were commonly called.

Every life form on the planet glowed with its own bioluminescence, from the thick, gracefully twisted crystal trees, where the Klofsnwot made their homes, to the transparent little twittertoads that twerted in the turquoise grasses.

In shape, the Klofsnwot had a superficially human appearance, but they lacked distinct facial features. Cloudy white in color, in the darkness they exuded a bluish-pink aura that trailed behind them as they moved. They communicated through windy whistles during the day and, at night, combined those soft, whispery sounds with subtly colored pulses from the hazy stripes that lined their sides. Yet, despite their humanoid shape, the crystal people of Yggiz Tsudrats didn't wear clothing. They believed it wasn't necessary, since they didn't suffer from the elements and the rules of modesty didn't apply. There were no males or females among the Klofsnwot. Reproduction was an asexual process, and tradition dictated that those undergoing the division process were locked away in special rooms until it was over. They were, in essence, living statues made entirely of silicate glass, and they were among the most beautiful creatures the Doctor had ever encountered.

The Time Lord's musings were interrupted by a light, hesitant tap on his shoulder. Startled, he turned to see one of the Klofsnwot looking up at him.

"Yes?" he asked.

"It is the intent to ask thee O outsider/friend," it said in its whispery voice, the TARDIS translating its pulses and whistles as best she could, "it is thy intent to be in attendance of the night opera this night?"

"Hm, what? The opera? Oh, is that tonight?" The Doctor glanced around in dim surprise. Sure enough, a gauzy, golden tent he hadn't noticed before had been erected over the town square, and dozens of people, natives and tourists alike, were crowding in to vie for the spots closest to the stage.

Apart from its beautiful and unique scenery, the bi-annual opera was Yggiz Tsudrats's main tourism draw. It was an awesome, lively spectacle of light, color, and sound, inspired by the ancient classical works of David Bowie, the Earth artist for whom the planet and its suns had been named. Long ago, the human explorer who had "discovered" the system claimed he had been inspired by the diatoms that swirled and sparkled in the sea, saying they reminded him of stardust. As for why he'd written the names out backwards in his report, that was attributed to the man's own well known eccentricity. The Klofsnwot, of course, had their own names for their planet, their twin suns, and for themselves, but since their language was all but unpronounceable without the aid of a specially designed flute, the human-given names had stuck. The natives, far from being offended, had taken this all in their stride. Fascinated by the strange carbon-based creatures that flocked to see their planet, they had willingly, even eagerly, absorbed the works of the ancient Earth master into their culture. Now, many centuries later, they had come to believe that David Bowie was actually one of their own.

"Ah, yes," the Doctor said, and turned back to the patient native. "You know, I took my friend here once—Rose. That was her name, my friend. To see the show. It was a good day." He nodded slowly, his expression distant. "A very good day."

"Then thee, O friend/outsider, would be wishing a ticket to purchase for thine entry, yes/no?" the native whistled, holding out a thin, opalescent slip. It shimmered in the deepening twilight like a strip of mica or the inside of an abalone shell. The Doctor reflexively began to reach for it, but at the last moment, he stopped himself, withdrawing his hand with a slight shake of his head.

"It is a magnificent show," he told the being politely. "But I think, this time, I'll give it a miss. I…" He trailed off, looking out past the town to the cliffs and the dark sea beyond. "I planned to go for a walk. Yes, that's what I need. A long, refreshing walk. I'd like to look at the sea."

The crystalline being bowed its head, its stripes pulsing a delicate green. "Then that is what thee should do, O outsider/friend. Please do accept the invitation to join us for half price once the show is in progress."

"I'll consider it, thanks," he said and turned away, a lone, lonely figure striding against the tide of beings pressing their way toward the tent.

* * *

During the day, the planet's crystalline landscape seemed almost like a strangely surreal twin of the Earth, but at night… At night everything changed. The entire planet lit up like a psychedelic dream. The purple sea swirled with glimmering golden light from the diatoms, and the flexible crystalline grasses glittered a delicate xenon blue as they swayed in the breeze. The trees and flowers and nighttime creatures glowed in a range of colors, from red to green to orange to violet. And the moon… The moon was the aspect the Doctor treasured most of all. It was a brilliant copper, as unique in hue as the planet it circled was in biology. The Doctor had only seen a moon that color on one other planet…and that was when he had gazed upon the copper moon of Gallifrey: Pazithi Gallifreya (1). Sometimes, when the fading moonlight was angled just right and Yggiz Tsudrats's second sun was just starting its southern rise, the Doctor could almost pretend it was Gallifrey's star and satellite he was seeing…and that he wasn't really alone…

But he was alone. That was the painful fact, Sarah Jane's offer notwithstanding. Rose was gone, he'd frightened Donna and Joan away, and now…now, even Martha and Jack had left him to concentrate on building their lives on Earth.

He'd told himself he could make it on his own. He'd put off his promise to Sarah Jane as long as he could, reluctant to admit that the chapter of his life that had held Rose Tyler was over, truly over. That his best friend was gone, that he had moved on. But now he realized, after everything that had happened with Martha and the Master and the year that never was…it was time. Now, here, at last, he was finally ready to say goodbye.

From where the Doctor stood, high at the top of an isolated cliff, the nighttime sky seemed black as tar, the stars all but blotted out by the rapidly moving clouds. Yet the Doctor could see just the same, all the way out past the sloshing waves to the softly curving horizon. It was a breathtaking sight, as empty as it was beautiful. It was a view that fit his mood.

"_It takes a lot of things to get across this universe,_" the words flitted through his head, the memory of something he'd told Rose once, a long time ago. A lifetime ago."_Warp drive, wormhole refractors… But d' you know what you need, most of all? You need a hand to hold_..." (2)

He _missed_ Rose's hand. He missed it with a deep pang that filled his stinging eyes and forced him to swallow. Those deceptively strong fingers, brushing against his with such open friendship. No fear, no hesitation. Just a smile and a cheeky little squeeze of his palm. So trusting. That warm, solid presence had allowed him to feel so happy. Connected. Rose had always made him feel, despite everything, that he was liked, that he was worth it—that the universe was worth it. Now, he wasn't so sure.

Small animals and even smaller insects skittered and swooped in the corners of his vision as he stared out at the horizon, leaving sharp, thin trails of greenish or violet light behind them. Night birds fluttered in the treetops, their calls as pure and sweet as a glass flute. Yet, tonight, the whole scene left him cold. He'd seen it all before and, he had to admit, it was much better with two. Rose's ghost was still beside him, drinking in the scenery, her dark eyes gleaming with happiness as she listened to the birds sing their crystal-sweet tunes. In his memory, she leaned her head against his shoulder, the warmth of her body reminding him of her alien origins. He'd been able to forget, sometimes, that she was human. At some point, he had simply stopped thinking of her in that way. She didn't have a category. In his mind she would always be just Rose. His Rose.

But she wasn't his. She never had been his. And to think of her as anything other than human… It robbed her of her reality, of the truth of who and what she really was. Rose had been special to him, no doubt, but she had been far from perfect. Rose was no idyllic Dulcinea, no dream of flame and air. She had been blemished, flawed, argumentative, and far, far too young to realize how dangerous her Doctor really was. In short, she had been human. And the memory of her alien warmth at his side, of her many ignorant, if well-intentioned, errors and stubborn imperfections, only made her absence that much harder to bear.

"Oh, Sarah Jane," he muttered. "I never wanted this for you. I'm sorry… Oh, Rose, I'm so, so sorry…"

Clenching his fists in helpless frustration, the Doctor kicked hard at the ground, dislodging several small, pink stones. They fell slowly the fifty-eight feet to the sandy beach below. He watched them land, bouncing slightly in the planet's low gravity, and sighed deeply. This lonely brooding wasn't doing much good. Perhaps he would take that Klofsnwot up on its offer and join the crowd at the opera, take his mind off his guilt for a while. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his long, tan coat, the Time Lord began to turn away from the edge of the cliff, when a sudden sound caught his attention. Squinting through the dimness, he spied a dark shape silhouetted against the glowing grass. Realizing it'd been spotted, the figure started toward him, its features still obscured by the darkness.

"Oh, it is you!" it exclaimed, and the Doctor frowned. That voice… But no, that was impossible. It had to be his imagination. The figure continued.

"I thought you were stayin' at that concert! But I can't say I'm not glad you're here. This place is gorgeous, but it's seriously spooky at night."

The Doctor's frown deepened and he took a step closer. "Who are you?" he asked suspiciously.

The figure seemed taken aback. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I thought you were— Well, what with that coat and everythin', I jus' assumed… But no, wait…"

The figure moved closer, stepping out into the coppery moonlight. The Doctor's jaw slackened, and he gasped… "No… No, no, no, no…."

"Doctor…?" The girl's voice was soft now, cautious, her brown eyes wide with shock. "Doctor…is that you?"

"Rose…" The word trembled as it fell from his tongue, and he backed away, too shaken to process what was happening. The next time Rose spoke, it was a scream.

"Doctor, _watch out!_"

But it was too late. The Doctor had backed one step too far. Pinwheeling his arms, the startled Time Lord fought to keep his balance as he tottered awkwardly at the edge of the cliff, but ultimately gravity won out and he found himself plummeting to the beach far below.

"Oh, _tihs_," he managed to hiss. Barely a moment later, his body impacted with the ground and the glowing world around him faded to black.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

**References:**

1) Gallifrey's moon was first named in the novel _Cat's Cradle: Time's Crucible _by Marc Platt, which featured the Seventh Doctor and his friend Ace.

2) Reference to the Series 2 episode _Fear Her_ featuring David Tennant.


	3. Part Two

Well, I promised I'd have an update for this story by today and, even though I posted Part One ahead of schedule, I still had more to say. So, here's Part Two! Thank you a million times for your reviews!!! I really appreciate them, even more so since it's been such a struggle lately to find enough time to work on my stories! Things have really been nuts around here, I've got to study for my oral comp in February and I'm working on filling out applications and fixing up my documentary and, oh, all sorts of brain-cluttering stuff. But I can't thank you enough for your comments, and for reading my stories, and I really hope you like this next part!!! Thanks again:D

* * *

**Part Two**

The Doctor opened his eyes with a grunt of discomfort. He was lying sprawled on the sand looking up, up, up to the jagged cliff top and the swiftly moving clouds above.

"Ow," he said, and began to sit up, glancing behind him at the rather significant dent he'd made in the loose, pink sand. Yggiz Tsudrats's relatively low gravity had softened his landing enormously, but fifty-eight feet was still an impressive distance to fall. The Doctor groaned and rubbed his hip. "That'll be a bruise," he commented critically to himself. "But nothing seems broken." As if to test this theory, he suddenly jumped to his feet and performed a rapid-fire series of stretches from his arms and shoulders to his neck, then his back, torso and legs. Having finished his brisk little dance, he quickly beat the remaining sand from his clothes and hair and grinned. "Not too shabby for a bloke pushin' nine hundred and–"

"Doctor!"

The Time Lord started, then froze, his eyes wide. "It was real…" he breathed, staring helplessly at the lithe, female figure jumping the final few feet from the end of the cliff path to the beach below. "By Rassilon, she was _real…_"

"Oh my God, Doctor, are you all right?" Rose exclaimed, the sand, coupled with the low gravity, hindering her a bit as she raced toward him. "I didn't mean to scare you, but I swear, for a moment there you looked like you'd jus' seen, like, a…a…"

She came up short, her concerned expression fading to confusion as she realized he wasn't making any move to greet or reassure her. "A ghost…" she finished. "Doctor, why are you lookin' at me like that? What's wrong?"

The Doctor's brain felt as if it were spinning a thousand rotations per second. Hundreds of possible responses whizzed through his mind, all of them nearly inaudible over the deafening pounding of his hearts. There was no mistaking that haircut, those clothes, the expression in her eyes. He'd done it again. Landed in the wrong time. He'd meant to arrive seven years _after_ his last visit with Rose; he clearly recalled punching that specific equation into the TARDIS console. But obviously, his exceptionally willful TARDIS had decided to ignore his plans and follow an agenda of her own. As _bloody_ usual. The Doctor gritted his teeth, sending waves of fury and indignation pulsing through his mental link with his ship.

This was bad. This was a very, very, bad, _bad_ situation, and he had to get out of it. He had to leave, vanish, evaporate. Only thing was…there was no place to go. Not without her following. And there was another, even more pressing fact to consider, a fact that ambushed his intellect and laid siege to his rational mind. And that fact was: he was standing on a deserted beach and Rose was there. Physically, tangibly there, talking to him, expecting him to respond. It was a chance of a lifetime, a chance of ten lifetimes, and it would more than likely never come again. He'd told her once, _never say never, ever_, but this was it, this was different, this was honestly NEVER with a capital N (1). But if he did give in, if he did smile and speak and wrap her in his arms, the impact of that choice on their established timeline could be catastrophic. It would mean willfully breaking the Laws of Time, changing his own past, initiating a paradox! This was what his mind was screaming as it railed against the siege engines of emotion that were rolling up in waves. This was the fear that flooded his well tuned Time Lord senses with visions of potential rips and ripples in the fabric of reality.

But his rational mind wasn't behind the burning in his eyes, and it wasn't his temporal senses that felt the wind cool the tears that ran down his cheeks. And when he ran to her, it wasn't logic or the foreknowledge of impending danger that propelled him through the sand. It was his hearts that took action. His hearts so wracked and aching with loneliness and guilt and disbelieving joy that, at first, they could only form a single, trembling word.

"Rose!" He sobbed into her hair, startling her with the vehemence of his embrace. "Oh, Rose it's really you. You're really really real."

"Wha– Of course I'm real. _Oof_." She pushed pointedly against his arms. "You squeeze any tighter an' my insides'll look like that sea out there. What's the matter with you? An' why aren't you at that opera?"

The Doctor stilled for a moment, then released her as impulsively as he'd grabbed her, backing away several steps with his hands in the pockets of his overcoat. Any trace of tears was gone, save for a slight redness around his eyes.

"The opera. Yes. Right," he said, his words coming in short, awkward bursts as he frantically fought to recover the memories she was referring to. "I was heading for the opera, you said you were done in and couldn't face any more lights."

"Yeah, so I left you at the tent thing and headed for our rooms in that weird, glowy, tree house inn," she said. "I tried to get to sleep but couldn't with all that noise outside, so I went for a walk instead. Now you. What are you doin' out here like this, an' why are you wearin' those clothes? I've never seen that suit on you before…or those trainers either, for that matter." Her eyes widened with a sudden, horrible thought.

"You didn't– Doctor, tell me... You didn't run off to the TARDIS without me? Go off on some adventure while you thought I was sleepin'?"

"What?" The Doctor stared, flabbergasted. "No! Rose, how could you even think such a thing! I could never, never…" He swallowed, too guilt-stricken to finish the thought.

"Never what?" Rose frowned suspiciously. "Doctor–never _what_?"

"Never leave you behind," he mumbled, his words barely audible above the soft slosh of the waves. Rose paused, her head tilted in something like confusion, as if she were just seeing him for the first time. She took a step closer. The Doctor caught his breath as she reached out to touch his face, running her warm fingers under his eye and down his cheek.

"You look…different," she said at last, her eyes dark as she studied his face, his hair, his clothes. "Older. It's there, around your eyes, your mouth… You look sadder."

The Doctor lowered his head, shrugging her hand away in discomfort. Rose regarded him carefully, critiquing him as she would a stranger.

"It's you, isn't it," she said. "But a different you. You're not the Doctor I know."

Her words were like an ice cube slipping down his back. Had he truly changed so much? Could it be that after everything he'd faced in the years without her, all the suffering he'd caused and all the lives he'd saved… Could it be that he was no longer…_her_ Doctor?

His first gut, knee-jerk reaction was to deny the implication. The urge was to laugh it off, turn it into a joke, bury his pain in a lie. And he would have. If it were Martha who'd said that, or even Jack. But this was Rose. She knew him. She wouldn't let him escape with a lie and a wink. Rose demanded the truth. And, like Sarah Jane, she deserved nothing less.

"You're right," he said, straightening his posture with all the Time Lord dignity and distance he could muster. "I am a different Doctor. I, um," he scratched at his ear, the nervious gesture belying his imperious stance. "I came here by accident. I meant to arrive seven years after this point."

"So, you're from the future, then," Rose stated, starting to get curious. The Doctor nodded. Rose looked around. "An' where am I, then? The future me?"

The Doctor had to close his eyes against the sudden onslaught of memories–Rose grasping that Torchwood lever for dear life, Daleks screaming mechanized screams of fury as the irresistible pull of the Void dragged them into oblivion… (2).

"I'm from a distant future," he hedged. "Years and years away. I came here…on my own."

Rose took a moment to digest this. "Oh," she said, then looked up. "How many years?"

"Oh, lots," the Doctor said as lightly as he could. "You know. An' probably even longer, what with Time bein' relative an' all…"

"Oh." Rose nodded, then gave an embarrassed little shrug. "I guess that explains the greetin', then," she said. "You, er, must have been surprised to see me. It bein', you know. So many years…"

"Yeah." The Doctor sniffed and rubbed his nose. Rose gave an awkward little laugh.

"Well," she said. "S'pose I'd better…be headin' back…" She made a sloppy gesture toward the cliffs, starting to back away. "It was nice…well…meeting you."

The Doctor's brain lurched. This was the perfect out. He'd done everything he'd dreamed of since he lost her: touched her, hugged her, talked to her, felt that familiar alien warmth against his skin. Better still, any potential damage to the timeline was minimal. Rose would never discuss this encounter with his younger self, and even if she did let it slip that she met a future version of him, it wouldn't necessarily mean anything. Yes, the smartest thing to do was to just let her go and allow history to continue along its course.

Yet as he watched her turn, felt the distance between them growing wider, colder, his hearts once again overwhelmed his sense of reason. In desperation, they pounded out–

"Rose! Wait!"

She swiveled in the sand, looking at him curiously.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"I–"

There was still a chance to tell her it was nothing, a mistake, that she should return to their tree-top inn and wait for his younger self's return. But he'd come this far, and he knew, he just knew it was his last chance to say it…

"I love you."

"What?" Rose shook her head as if she didn't understand or, worse yet, hadn't heard.

"I love you," the Doctor repeated and lifted his chin. It was a matter-of-fact statement, spoken in the same tone as if he'd just told her the sea was purple. Yet, Rassilon help him if it wasn't the truest, and the hardest, sentence he'd ever uttered.

Rose was heading back now, her forehead scrunched up in confusion.

"Did you just say that you–"

"Love you, yes," the Doctor nodded.

"You love me."

"Very much."

Rose squinted at him, her eyes widening slowly as she absorbed the deep sincerity in his expression.

"Oh," she said softly, her voice rather too high.

"Yep," the Doctor agreed, just as intimately. Rose gave him a small, hesitant sort of smile.

"So," she said, and held out her hand, wiggling her fingers in invitation. "Wanna take a walk?"

The Doctor regarded her hand for a long moment, savoring the feelings that shivered through his veins. This was wrong, this was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. But oh. Oh, it felt so right.

"Rose Tyler," he said, taking her hand in his and giving her fingers a light squeeze. The fit was perfect, better even than he remembered. He smiled at her, a broad, warm smile he hadn't felt on his face in years. Temporal consequences be damned. He was the Last of the Time Lords. If there were any rules to break, it was his prerogative to lob them at the nearest wall and watch them shatter. Just this once, he felt he had every right to be selfish.

"My dear, dear Rose Tyler," he smiled. "There is nothing I would like better."

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

**References:**

1) Reference to the Series Two episode _Fear Her_ featuring David Tennant.

2) Reference to the Series Two finale _Doomsday_ featuring Billie Piper.


	4. Part Three and Conclusion

**Part Three **

The night air was just chilly enough to be comfortable rather than cold. Rose let her eyes drift from her companion's face to their clasped hands as they strolled along the shadowed shore.

Even in profile, with his sharp features limned with coppery moonlight, the changes in her friend were clear. The Doctor she'd left only minutes ago at the concert was bright and vibrant, with warm eyes and a manic grin that could barely be contained. There was always a bounce in his step and the promise of mischief in his smile. The man walking beside her had none of that boyish exuberance. His stride was firmer, more deliberate, his tension evident in his posture and the tightness that tugged the corners of his mouth. Even the feel of his hand in hers had changed. He held her hand more tightly now, more protectively, as if afraid she would fade away at any moment. She pursed her lips, turning her eyes back to the sand.

When Rose had first met the Doctor, he'd been a tall, lanky man with dark, close-cropped hair, a strong nose, and a distinct Northern accent. He'd been a loner, building walls around his hearts and mind in a vain attempt to stem the pain and guilt that had stalked him since the death of his homeworld. He'd opened up a bit in the end, starting to laugh and joke and even dance now and then, but all the time there'd been a shadow over him, a weight of responsibility that was as much a part of him as his leather jacket. Rose had come to love that Doctor dearly, yet no matter how close they became, he'd always kept his distance, as if afraid of the pain her inevitable loss would bring, the loss of yet another human friend whose entire lifespan was shorter than some Time Lords used to spend on holiday. And Rose had understood that.

When he'd regenerated, though, everything had changed. He'd come back as a much younger man, a man who not only welcomed her presence, but seemed, in some ways, to need it. Not just as a friend or someone to talk to, but as a partner, to help him carry the load and hold his demons at bay. This new Doctor wasn't a loner, far from it. He was more like Rose. Neither felt completely whole without another person to share their world with. The beauty and the horror, the tears and the laughs…everything, the universe, it was so much better with two.

And that's why it broke her heart to see the Doctor this way, withdrawn back into himself without a friend to pull him out and make him see that he wasn't truly alone.

Giving into a sudden impulse, Rose stopped their progress and enfolded the Time Lord in a hug. When he didn't respond right away, she released him and lowered her head.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," she said quietly.

"What?" The Doctor looked at her, a little off balance after the unexpected hug. "Rose, what could you possibly be sorry for?"

Rose shrugged, not quite sure how to express what she was feeling. "I guess… I know it's weird an' that—you seein' me after I've been, you know, gone so many years. But, it's just, I'm sorry I had to go. However it happened—an' don't tell me! I don't want to know. But whatever it was, old age or some monster that was just too clever, or got lucky, or whatever. It doesn't matter. Because, I wanted to stay with you forever. I do want to stay with you forever, no matter what. But, I guess my forever's sort of a lot shorter than yours is. An' I'm sorry."

"Oh, Rose. No. No, don't you ever be sorry. Not for that."

"But I am," she said. "Because, you're different now. I can tell. It's not just that you're older. You're all closed off, an' it's worse than the first time. 'Cause then it was because you'd lost your people an' your planet, an' now…" She sighed and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"I thought, when you regenerated, your old brooding self was gone," she said. "But now, well, it's like, I see all that guilt again, in you, and it doesn't fit. Because, I loved him, an' he was in so much pain all the time, but every now an' then there was this flash, you know? He'd have, like, this sudden burst of joy, and I knew how good he was. An' then he was you an' it was like….like you were better. You were happy."

"Well, that's the thing with regeneration," he said, his voice flat. "You change faces but the man inside is still the same. It's the company you keep that makes the difference. An' that was you, Rose. You made me happy."

"But that's the thing!" Rose said. "That's what I'm tryin' to say. 'Cause, now I'm lookin' at you, an' it's like the whole thing's reversed. Like, when you regenerated, all the joy came to the outside, but the pain took its place inside. An' now it's like that joy is gone. An' there's just the pain that's left." She looked at him, her worried eyes boring into his defensive stare. "What happened to you, Doctor? Was it me? Is it my fault?"

"Your fault?"

"That I couldn't stay. That I had to… Because I'll find a way. There's got to be technology out there somewhere that could make me live longer."

"Rose, what are you saying?"

Rose looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. "I love you too. I love you, Doctor, and I don't want you to be alone. You shouldn't ever have to be alone, an' I don't want it to be my fault, jus' because stupid little apes like me have to age an' wither an' die. I never wanted to break your hearts like that. Never."

The Doctor's expression slackened, then colored with shame.

"Rose, no. Rose, listen. Listen to me, Rose."

Rose looked up with a sniffle, wiping her streaming eyes on her sleeve.

"Rose," he said, "if I've changed, it isn't your fault. It's me. It's all me. An' I don't want you feeling guilty over something you can't control. I know the human life span is short. I know it better than you do. And it only makes me admire you all the more. Do you understand that, Rose?"

"What about Sarah Jane Smith, then?" Rose retorted. "When I asked why you left her behind all those years ago. When I asked why you never even mentioned her until we ran into her at that school. You said it's because we humans wither an' we die. You dropped her off on Earth and locked your time together away somewhere in your head and you never mentioned her! An' what about the others? All the other humans you took away with you on your adventures? What happened to them, Doctor? Why don't you talk about them?"

"All right," he said, a little sharper than he'd intended. "Sarah Jane was different. I got an emergency call from my planet demanding I come home and back then humans weren't allowed (1). I had no choice but to leave her on Earth. And by the time the problems on my planet had been dealt with, it was too late to go back. But the others… They left me, Rose. Susan, Ian, Barbara, Jo Grant, Romana, Leela, Tegan, Nyssa, Peri, Mel, even Ace and Martha. Even the friends you brought along, even Mickey! They all found their own lives, their own calling, outside the TARDIS, and those lives did not include me. They said good bye, every one of them, and I had to learn to let them all go. And then there were the others. Katarina. Adric. Jamie. Zoe. Astrid. Dear friends who died, or were ripped away, punished for my crimes. You're not the first who wished to spend your life with me, Rose. And you wouldn't be the first I've lost. So don't you dare blame yourself, or resent your humanity. This life of mine… It isn't kind and it isn't safe. An' sometimes, even I have a hard time accepting that."

Rose was quiet for a moment, subdued by what she'd heard. "So many," she whispered. "I didn't know… And you lost them all, didn't you?"

The Doctor sniffed sharply. "Yeah."

Rose shook her head. "Oh, I am stupid. To think— To think you were _my_ Doctor."

"Don't," the Doctor said sharply. "Don't do that."

"But what am I supposed to think?" Rose asked. "You come here and tell me all this…"

"I told you I loved you," the Doctor said. "I've never said that to anyone before. Not the way I meant it when I said it to you."

"An' why did you tell me, Doctor?" Rose asked, her cheeks flushed and shiny with tears. "Why did you call me back? What's the point of bringin' all this up, of tellin' me we're going to lose each other, if you know we can't be together? Isn't this, like, against the Laws of Time or somethin'?"

"Yes. Yes, it is. But don't you see, Rose, I had to do it. I had to tell you, to talk to you. Because otherwise…" He turned away, suddenly unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

Rose came up behind him, her footsteps nearly soundless on the sand. "What did happen, Doctor?" she asked quietly. "It wasn't as long ago as you said, was it. You wouldn't be this upset if it was. It happens soon, doesn't it. I'm going to die soon."

"No." The Doctor shook his head firmly, his eyes shiny and red. "No, you're not going to die."

Rose's expression crumpled. "But you said—" she started. "But I wouldn't leave ya. Tell me I don't leave you, Doctor!"

"It isn't your fault, Rose," the Doctor said. "You tried everything to stay with me. Everything. It just…" He closed his eyes, fighting to shut out the images of those last agonized moments before the Vortex closed. "It just wasn't enough."(2)

"But, I don't understand! If I don't die, but I don't stay with you, then—"

"You're trapped," the Doctor blurted, unable to hold it back any longer. "On that parallel world. Pete's world. An' it's fine, Rose. You're fine. You're with your Mum, and Pete and Mickey an' you're all…just fine."

Rose was still for a long moment. Then she said, "An' what about Time, then?"

"Time?"

"Yeah. What about what you're always sayin', about Time bein' in flux an' that. Isn't there some way we could—"

"No."

"But—"

"No, Rose," the Doctor said, and the pain those words caused him was clear in his eyes. "We can't change what happened. Not without risking the rest of humanity. But it's all right, Rose. You go out a hero. You save the world."

"An' end up trapped in that zeppelin universe!" Rose exclaimed. "No thanks. There's got to be a way!"

The Doctor's expression darkened. "If there was a way, don't you think I'd have found it by now?" he snapped. "It took all I had, all my ingenuity just to send a holographic message through to you. All so we could have just one last moment to say good bye."

"So this is it, then," Rose sniffed. "There really is no way around it. It's fate."

The Doctor scoffed. "I don't believe in Fate."

"Right," Rose retorted. "You believe in choice. Free will. But if we can't change the future, what good is that? It's not. It's crap. All that's left is destiny. And mine's to get stuck in some alien universe far away from you."

"What can I say?" the Doctor said. "Some points are fixed, Rose. Some events just have to happen, those rare little knots that keep the tapestry of Time from unraveling. Pull on the wrong string, undo the wrong knot, and poof—you get a hole in the tapestry the size of a star system and lumps of loose, wrinkly thread hangin' off the back. What you did, Rose, that was one of those knots."

"But it isn't fair," Rose said, wiping her eyes.

"I know," he said, and pulled her into a gentle embrace. Rose sniffled and buried her face in his chest, snuggling in until she could hear his double heartbeat. "I know, Rose."

The Doctor held her close, resting his cheek on her hair. Rose squeezed him tighter, breathing him in until, finally, they both let go.

"So," Rose said, swinging her arms back and forth to avoid looking him in the eye. "What's next for you, then, Doctor? Has there been anyone else since I…um… Because I wouldn't mind, you know. I can't bear the thought of you traveling alone. An' if it can't be me with you forever, well…" She dredged up a smile. "'S still better with two, yeah?"

The Doctor shrugged. "There was Martha. Good ol' Martha Jones. She's a doctor herself now, livin' her life. Works with UNIT. Going to get married soon, I hear."

"So, she left too," Rose said quietly.

The Doctor looked at her, and the emotion in his eyes spoke more eloquently than any words. Rose had to swallow and look away.

"So that's what you meant, then. The Curse of the Time Lords. You go on, same old life. An' with every friend that leaves, it gets that much more empty. An' there's nothin' I can do, is there. Even if I could spend my life with you, when my forever's done you'll still be here, on your own. Watchin' out for the universe. An' I'll still be gone."

The Doctor averted his eyes. "Yeah."

"Then you have to find someone."

"What?"

"You have to find someone," Rose repeated. "And when that someone goes, you have to find someone else. And then someone else. 'Cause you can't let yourself get like this, Doctor. You can't give up on friends and love jus' because it ends. Because it doesn't end. Not once you have someone new to share with. It's just different."

"Rose." The Doctor frowned. "You don't understand—"

"Don't I?" she retorted. "I've seen my Mum, Doctor. My whole life it's been one man after another. An' in the end, they always leave. They get what they wanted an' then they go an' my Mum's left alone an' so angry an' hurt she swears never again. She'll never open herself up to that sort of hurt again. Then, a month later, maybe two, there's another Mr. Right jus' moved in round the corner. An' she's up on cloud nine all over again."

The Doctor furrowed his brow. "What are you sayin' to me?" he said. "I'm a lonely middle-aged woman?"

Rose almost giggled. "No," she said, sobering. "But I know lonely. I know what can happen to lonely people. Growin' up in a Council flat, I've seen things. Abuse, adultery, abandonment, suicide, murder, an' worse. I knew the victims and I saw how loss and loneliness changed them. They got all cold an' distant an' angry an' bitter an' so scared of lettin' anyone else in. An' I'm seein' that in you an' if you let this loneliness go on eatin' you you're gonna lose everything it is that makes you my Doctor, and the thought of that is worse than the thought of bein' trapped in that other universe. An' I am not goin' to jus' stand here an' let that happen to you!"

"And that's your solution?" the Doctor said. "To keep moving on, jumping from one companion to the next?"

"You're twistin' what I mean," Rose said, and sighed, struggling to gather her thoughts. "It's like," she said, "like, when you were with me, yeah? Were you lonely then?"

"No. But—"

"An' when you were with Martha. Sure, she left to go be a doctor and get married an' whatever, but when you were traveling together, were you lonely?"

"At times. But—"

"An' what about with the others?"

"Rose," the Doctor interrupted her. "I know what you're saying. But it's not that easy. People die when they travel with me, Rose. People get hurt."

"An' facin' up to that is what makes them fantastic." Rose stated, starting to get angry. "Travelin' with you, ordinary, boring people can be real heroes. They can realize they're not so borin' an' ordinary after all. They can do things, change things, make a real difference. An' if they're not willing to face the consequences of that kind of life, they don't deserve to travel with you. Can't you see that? I learned more about myself in the time we've spent together than I ever would have living my whole life back home. An' even knowin' all the danger, I'd still do it again. Because I want to. Because it's a part of me now, it's who I am and what I want to be. It's not all on you, Doctor. I chose to live this life too."

The Doctor stared for a long moment, his jaw working as if he were teetering between laughter and fury. Then, he took her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles with a soft, resigned chuckle. "Rose Tyler," he said. "You are something special."

Rose shook her head. "Nah," she said. "I'm jus' some bottle-blonde shop girl from a London Council flat who never finished school. An' one day, I met this man who didn't see any of that. He was brave an' good and he cared more about my life and my world than I thought anyone could. He showed me you don't need to be loud an' famous or rich or smart to be great. You jus' have to care, really care—enough to stand up and take action an' do what you believe in. Mickey learned that from you, an' so did I. You teach us to love, Doctor, and once that lesson is learnt, we can't just stand still, we have to use it. I think that's why Mickey left, an' if that's why he left then it's probably why your other friends left too. So you can think, they weren't abandoning you, Doctor. They're carrying on your work. An' if I have to be stuck in that parallel world, that's what I'll do too. 'Cause doin' anythin' else would be lettin' you down, and I jus' couldn't do that."

The Doctor brought her hand to her chest and looked her in the eye. "How do you do it?" he asked, and his lips twitched up into something almost like a smile. "I tell you I'm going to let you down, lose you to a parallel universe, and you go and build me up."

Rose stepped in closer, tilting her head with a shrug as she ran her tongue over her broad, white teeth. "I guess I'm just too good," she teased.

"Oh Rose." The Doctor smoothed a hand over her hair, then dropped her hand and lowered his eyes. "I can't do this," he said. "I have to leave. You have to go back." He looked back at her, his eyes reddening around the edges. "But I don't want to say good bye."

"Well, maybe there's a way?" Rose said. "Some way we haven't thought of yet? Maybe my future is tied up in a knot you can't undo, but if we could stay in contact somehow, even through the dimensions? It'd be something. An' you could tell me about your adventures an' your new friends, an' when they leave you won't be so alone. An' neither will I. An' then, we always will be together. 'Cause then, no matter where you are in time and space, you could always, like, text a message to where and when I am, yeah? An' I'd always be there to get it."

The Doctor tilted his head at that, his eyes flashing back and forth as if he were reading or watching something that wasn't there. When he looked up, though, his face broke into a bright, beaming grin.

"Rose Tyler!" he cried, sweeping her into her arms and giving her a spin. "You are a genius! I've done it before, but it never occurred to me to try it with you."

"Try what?" Rose asked. "And why wouldn't you think to try it with me?"

"It can be very dangerous," the Doctor said. "If the link gets too deep or if one mind is too strong and dominates the other. An' you got upset when you found out the TARDIS gets in your brain and translates languages for you. Why would I ask you to submit to something so primally invasive?"

"Like what?" Rose demanded. "What do you want to do?"

"A mind link," he told her. "We would share our memories, our thoughts, everything. An' if I don't close it off, there's no reason we shouldn't be able to draw on this link to contact each other across dimensions. Even if words can't carry across, even if it's just a vague sense that the other is still around and feeling, it's better than jus' wondering an' hoping. Don't you think?"

Rose swallowed, a little nervous at the prospect of the Doctor seeing into her mind. "So this mind link, then," she said. "What happens? You, like, touch my face and suddenly you can see all my memories?"

"And you would see mine. How far back it would go depends on the strength of the link."

Rose nodded slowly. "And how far back would it go?" she asked.

"All the way," the Doctor admitted, averting his eyes as he picked at a nail. "You'd see everything, more than I've ever shown anyone. It would have to be that deep if it's to keep us linked even through the dimensional boundaries."

"Ah," she said. "Yeah. That's very Spock."

"Yeah. So, what do you say?" the Doctor asked, looking almost as nervous as she felt. "Do you…do you want to link with me?"

Rose swallowed again, then straightened her shoulders, looking him straight in the eye. "Yeah," she said seriously, then smiled. "Yeah, Doctor. I do."

"Then come closer," he said, holding out his hand to brush his fingers against her temple. "I never told you this before, Rose, but I come from a planet called Gallifrey. I was Loomed there on Otherstide, a member of the House of Lungbarrow. I think we'll start with my earliest memory, when my older Cousins gathered together for my naming ceremony."

"You're going to tell me your name?" Rose stared, already losing herself in the swirl of color and sound and emotion of the Doctor's thoughts.

"I'm going to show you everything," he told her, his voice distant and dream-like. "Through this link, you'll become an inseparable part of me, and I of you. And in that way, the two of us will never be parted. Never, never ever."

* * *

"And that's why she came back to find me, that time Davros kidnapped the Earth and made it part of his reality bomb," the Doctor said, taking a big bite of his buttered scone (3). "I'd arranged for the link between us to remain sealed until she'd had enough time to grow used to her new reality. Apparently, a few of those sealed memories had just begun to leak out, and that's what prompted her to break her way through the reality barrier to warn me of what Davros was planning. She was certain that link would lead her straight to me."

"So, wait. Let me see if I understand. You blocked off her memories of your encounter on Yggiz Tsudrats—you falling off the cliff, your talk on the beach, the mental link, everything?"

"Yeah. And it worked. When I got back to our treehouse inn that night after the concert, I remember she was fast asleep, resting on top of the covers. She still had on her jacket and shoes. When she woke up, she said she'd been for a walk but was too sleepy to remember much of what she'd seen. She told me she must have just fallen on the bed and conked out. She never gave a hint that she'd met some older version of me, or that she knew anything of what lay ahead for us."

Sarah Jane nodded and sipped her coffee. "And what about you?" she asked. "Did you seal off your memories of the event as well?"

"I did," the Doctor nodded. "In fact, it wasn't until after I regenerated that the memories of that night started coming back."

"Perhaps it was too painful before?"

"Perhaps." The Doctor shrugged a little, then smiled. "But it's all right now. And I think the plan has worked. I can feel her, Sarah. I can feel her in that other world. I know when she's laughing, and when she's sad. And, as time goes on, I'm confident we'll be able to send messages to each other. Brief updates on our lives and families."

Sarah Jane raised her eyebrows above her spectacles. "Oh? You have a family now?"

The Doctor shot her his most boyish grin, which was quite effective considering that his new persona appeared to be somewhere in his mid to late twenties. "Well, I rather think of you as family," he said. "If that's all right with you?"

"Well, you do look barely older than my son," she teased. "Seriously though, Doctor, I'd be flattered."

The Doctor's grin broadened and he took another bite of scone. "My goodness, I haven't been this hungry since I can't remember when. High metabolism, I expect. I've actually caught myself dreaming about food lately." He chuckled. "Now I think I understand why Rose was always so intent on those chips of hers."

"So, she's really all right, now," Sarah Jane said. "You won't be having any more of those melancholy breakdowns or guilt attacks over leaving her on that parallel world?"

"Oh, she's all right," the Doctor said. "She's got me. Or, rather, a human clone of me. But I told you about that, didn't I?"

"Yes," Sarah nodded. "Although I'm still not sure I understand. I loved you, Doctor, at least as much as she did when I was young. And if you had come back and introduced me to some clone of yourself after dropping me off on Earth, I would have—"

"Yeah, and I wouldn't blame you a bit," he agreed. "But you're forgetting those memories Rose and I share. Sealed off for what, three, four, five years? Once that link was open, she would have been able to sense what was in my clone's heart as well as she could mine. He was the product of a botched regeneration, after all, and a link that deep, once established, doesn't change. She knew he could give her everything I wished I could."

"Except the TARDIS," Sarah Jane said.

"Yes, well," the Doctor said. "She has love, Sarah. Real, honest love."

"And you, Doctor?"

"I have love too," he said. "The love of my friends and my love for them. And my love for the universe."

Sarah Jane regarded him through the steam from her coffee mug. His eyes were so bright, his expression eager and fresh. "I see 'love' is no longer a four letter word," she said.

"Not for me," the Doctor smiled. Brushing his scone crumbs from his lap to the open dining area's tiled floor, he stood and bent over to peck her on the cheek. "Thanks for this, Sarah Jane," he said. "And I don't just mean the food."

"Be well, Doctor," she smiled, rising to give him a warm squeeze. "Come back any time. Whatever your mood, whatever your face. I'll be here."

"And I will love you for it," he smiled. "Oh, and before I forget!"

The Doctor reached behind his back, then spun in place before turning to face her with a theatrical flourish of his hands. Sarah gasped in delighted surprise when she saw he was holding out a small bouquet of pink periwinkles, blue forget-me-nots, and bright red carnations.

"For friendship, warm memories, and the rebirth of happiness," he said as she took the flowers and held them to her nose. "Happy Valentine's Day, Sarah Jane."

**THE END**

**References:**

(1) Reference to the 4th Doctor episodes "The Hand of Fear" and "The Deadly Assassin."

(2) Reference to the 10th Doctor episodes "Army of Ghosts" and "Doomsday."

(3) Reference to the 10th Doctor episodes "The Stolen Earth" and "Journey's End."


End file.
